


Pacific Coast Highway

by iinvisible



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: "mr grimshaw" makes a brief appearance, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, actually it's 2 am so im rlly sorry, and they fuck in the backseat a couple of times but thats cool, basically harry and louis drive around in harrys car a lot, harry just wants him to smile, he's the dickhead principal and im not rlly sorry, i feel like i shouldnt tag that bc it spoils but oh well you've been warned, louis is vv sad, there is capitalization in this story dont worry, warning warning character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3033629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iinvisible/pseuds/iinvisible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where harry has a fast car and he knows how to drive it, and louis is sad but has no idea why</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pacific Coast Highway

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello, my name is kayla and i guess this is my first official post on ao3, even though this is for damn sure not my first fic. this story is like my child that i've been slowly (but surely) raising for the past month and i hope you guys like it. it's only been proof-read like once by me myself and i so i apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> *this story is based of of a song called pch by jaden smith and i strongly suggest you go listen to it*
> 
> enjoy

_we’re just pch, pch, pch, pch drivin’_

Harry turned the wheel hard, wheels screeching and rubber burning the pavement as his ’67 Firebird wound its way up the cliff side. The dangerous bends in the road meant nothing to him anymore. The day was cold and the fog covered the wintery California Roads, making a thick gray blanket over the top of the ocean. Louis reached over the console and placed his hand on Harry’s thigh, smiling and leaning back into the familiar leather seat.

Harry took another particularly questionable turn, the wheels struggling to keep hold of the tar.

Louis wasn’t scared.

The Firebird raced up the slippery cliff side, chasing its own tail. They were getting to that far-up point where Louis could barely see the churning water; the sea looked angry today.  

Harry turned the key once he parked at their favorite spot on the top, cutting the engine then sighing and leaning back into his seat, hand now resting on top of Louis’s.

This was his and Harry’s secret place.

 

_give me all your kisses baby, ‘cause this is bliss, give me all your kisses baby_

They found it after a day of cruising on the beach. The barricades that looked to have once blocked the path up the treacherous cliff had been broken by the most recent tropical storm, and Louis suggested that they explore whatever was up there. Harry had been skeptical at first, but after many pouty looks and promised blow jobs, he steered his car past the blockage and started up the path.

The path was very dangerous; a thin strip of road with very sharp turns barely hanging on to the side of the small cliff, unprotected by any safety rails. The harsh-looking drop to the ground as they neared the top had even Harry, a small town drag-race legend, driving slowly and cautiously. Harry parked his speedster when they reached the top, both of the boys exiting the car and peering out over the ledge.

  _And wow._

It was a beautiful evening in Northern California and the sun was just starting to set, the ball of fire barley touching the warm summer water. They watched as the beautiful burning orb dropped into the ocean, a pink and orange haze mixing with the murky depths of the Pacific Ocean.

It sure was amazing, but Louis wasn’t looking at the spectacular view anymore. Louis was looking at something almost **twice** as dazzling.

Harry Styles.

In this light, Harry looked to be Poseidon himself. The sunset made his porcelain skin glow; his green eyes stood vibrant against the dulling sky, and his wild curls seemed to dance in the salty seaside wind, blowing around his masculine face that was still staring in awe of the amazing picture that had been painted in front of them.

After a few seconds Harry caught him staring and smiled, dimples popping out and eyes crinkling in the corners.

And _Jesus Christ._ He had no idea how he got this lucky.

He was so goddamn beautiful, and Louis had no idea how he got a hold on him, let alone kept his attention for the 9 months they had been dating. They had been friends long before that, mind you, but they hadn’t become boyfriends until one drunken night, junior year, that had them spilling their feelings (and a little bit of tequila) all over each other.

Louis grabbed a handful of Harry’s t-shirt and pulled him down to his level, whispering all his love for the boy in his ear. Then, standing on his tiptoes, he placed the sweetest kiss he thinks they’ve ever shared on Harry’s cherry red lips.

Louis feels Harry smile against the kiss, and in that moment he swore he could not be any happier.

And later, after they fucked on the hood of Harry’s car, Louis decided he would keep Harry, and that he should allow himself to keep nice things every once and awhile.

On the way back down to the ground, long after the sun buried itself under the ocean, Louis closed his eyes and placed his hand on Harry’s thigh, unknowingly starting a new habit that would stick around for years to come.

And the day after the best day of Louis’s life, he digs into the mystery of the “abandoned cliff-road,” and finds that that particular road had been deemed too dangerous for travel after the massive earthquake that shook the west coast in 1992.

Turns out the blockades got put up there right after the ‘quake, because the vibrations sent several large boulders that clung to the side rock tumbling down, knocking several guardrails off and leaving it “unsafe for use.”

Their small town was supposed to repair the damage a short time after it occurred, but apparently since the road didn’t particularly lead to anything, (besides the spectacular view) the mayor decided that the city in shambles was of more importance for the money they were receiving from California State Relief Efforts.

Louis didn’t blame her.

Besides, now after about 22 years without travelers, the path was seeing at least a little action from Louis and Harry driving up it whenever they felt it was necessary (or they just wanted to skip class.)

 

_i’m afraid that if I see you i’ll just freakin’ suffocate_

Now it was January, 5 months into Harry and Louis’s senior year of high school, and they were skipping.

Again.

They probably should start acting like proper adults, get together their resumes and apply to different colleges, but… Fuck that.

Fuck all of it because Louis hasn’t slept in two days because of that shit-hole his mom still calls “a place of learning,” and he is so fucking done. His hands shake from sheer exhaustion as he takes the box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one.

Harry grabs his hand when Louis goes to slip it back into the pocket of his jacket, (which must have originally been Harry’s because it was about 4 sizes too big on him) and he frowns at the dark circles under his eyes. He takes hold of Louis's hand, placing a feather-light kiss to the palm and slowly making his way around to every individual knuckle on his delicate fingers.

He sees the burn marks when the hoodie rides up and frowns.  

Harry hates it.

hate hate hate

He absolutely despises who and what ever does this to Louis. He wish he could pin point a one thing that he can blame all of Louis’s stress and anxiety on, but it is never just one single thing. It could be school, or his mom, teachers that aren’t kind enough to teach kids, or the dickheads that make fun of him in the halls for being small.

But mostly because Harry can’t stop it, no matter how hard he tries.

Of course Harry has tried to relieve the stresses of school and home, talked to the unkind teachers, and blackened some eyes the assholes in the hallways, but it never seems to completely stop Louis’s anxiety. It may help, but it never fully stops. It makes Harry sad.

Harry drops Louis’s hand and places his arm around his waist. Peering out over the edge of the cliff, he kinda sees why this place calms Louis down. Harry would drive him up here every day if he asked him to.

And that’s another thing that helps Louis, taking a drive in Harry’s car.

Harry’s 1967 Pontiac Firebird is his pride and joy. He completely restored it himself when he was 15, and has cherished the little baby every day since. The blood, sweat, and tears have really paid off, because Harry has got one sweet ass little speed demon, that he puts to good use.

Harry has never been a slow driver. He has gotten more than his fair share of speeding tickets and has even gotten his license suspended once or twice. He has always had the need for speed and he blames it on his biological father, Des, who had the same issue when he was Harry’s age.  

Since the day Harry got his license, that’s the only place he and Louis like to spend their time, unless they’re forced to go to school.

Louis admits that he loves when Harry drives fast. Loves to see the way the numbers on the speedometer climb, loves the sound of wheels squealing on pavement, loves the way Harry’s hand looks when it grips the clutch and loves how in tune Harry is with the road and his car. (But Harry still secretly thinks it’s because he gets off to the vibrating engine.)

The wind whips around them and Louis pulls his (Harry’s) jacket closer to his thin frame, leaning his head back to blow his cigarette smoke upwards, letting the wind carry it far away.

Harry reaches for the box of cigarettes deep in the pocket of Louis’s (his) hoodie, lighting up and staring out into the deep fog.

Harry never used to smoke.

Louis breathes in as deeply as he can and closes his eyes, forcing his lungs to stretch and burn to accommodate his bad habit.

He swallows the smoke instead of letting it escape because of all the TV adverts that say “cigarettes kill.” Good. He hopes that they do.

Harry never used to smoke, until he started dating Louis.

 

_and the moon is full, moon is full, moon is full, moon is full_

Louis looked up at the sky through his window pane; the full moon was shining brightly amidst the misty California night. Louis missed Harry. That was ridiculous, because it had only been a couple hours since Louis had seen the curly-haired boy, but he still missed Harry’s reassuring presence. Jesus Christ, when did Louis’s life turn into a fucking after school special?

It didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to _need_ Harry’s presence to keep him sane.

Louis had no idea when his life spiraled. Between all the anxiety he already had, plus the extra stress of school and everything that seems to go wrong in between, he started to shut down when it became too much. He started to smoke more cigarettes and skip more classes, even though he thought smoking was gross and he really liked to learn, just didn’t like the hell he had to go through to do so.

And the more his life spiraled out of his control, the more he wished to reverse time back to _The Summer._ Back when he didn’t _need_ Harry like an addict needs meth, but when he _wanted_ Harry like a normal human being.

His fondest memories all come from the same place; he’s self-titled it “the summer we were invincible,” or “ _The Summer_ ” for short.

Fuck he thinks about it every day.

 _The Summer_ that he and Harry got lost in each other, and they didn’t want anyone to go looking for them. _The Summer_   where they intertwined their souls (and bodies) and never looked back. _The Summer_ that they only belonged to each other, themselves, and the sea.

Oh yes, Louis remembers that summer very well. But now that the bright summer sun has set, the coldest winter Louis has ever experienced has settled into his bones. The only thing that can thaw him is Harry.

Harry’s warm hands on his skin, Harry's smile that was as bright as the California sun, Harry's warm mouth against his.

Without Harry, he’d freeze.

 

_and you’re beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._

Harry has a really good memory. He remembers every important date-- birthdays, anniversaries, you name it. But one thing Harry cannot remember for the life of him was the day the spark went out in Louis’s eyes.

When he thinks back, he can only remember when everything was good, and Louis was still whole.Back to that summer. _The Summer._

 _The Summer_ where Louis’s skin was tan and the color of his eyes rivaled the Pacific Ocean. _The Summer_ where Louis’s eyes twinkled like sapphire jewels and his smile reached his eyes. _The Summer_ where they were invincible, immortal, infinite. Living only for that day and not caring what would happen to them.

They had nothing and everything, and that’s just how they liked it. But the magic has left the air, the ocean has gone cold, and the summer has gone into hibernation.

The worst thing is Harry can see Louis wilting, like a flower that the sun has forgotten to nurture. The edges of his mouth sag further and further, his tan skin has been drained by the frigid air, and his dark circles have gotten so prominent that he thinks Louis actually puts make-up on them so no one can see how bad he’s really gotten. 

But the worse thing about it is Louis is still the most beautiful creature Harry has ever seen.

 

_we’re the crazy kids, rebel kids, saddened kids, wild kids, lonely kids._

Harry slams his face into the douchebags nose, feeling the crunch beneath his knuckles and the tearing of his skin.

He hears Louis screaming behind him to stop, but he keeps a hold on Douchebag’s jumper until he feels two strong hands pulling him away; and when he turns he comes face to face with the school’s principal, and he sure did not look impressed.

Well shit.

And of course he takes a firm hold on Harry and starts hauling him to towards his office. Harry knew he was so screwed.

The principal did not like Harry. He thought Harry was a no good punk; just a bad kid, and a trouble-causer at that. A rebel. The Principle did not like rebel kids in his school.

You’d think he didn’t like Harry because he drove too fast, skipped too many classes, or smoked too many cigarettes in the boys’ restroom, because that’s what most of his peers (and his mom) think, but Harry knows that that is not the case. He knows it’s because Harry’s openly gay and openly in love with Louis.

And their Principle, Mr. Grimshaw, did not like that at all. Mr. Grimshaw claimed to be an “honest, wholesome family man,” but Harry knew a homophobe when he saw one, and he could smell bullshit from a mile away.

Mr. Grimshaw sighs and sits down at his desk, rubbing his temples and fixing his gaze onto Harry who’s sat in the seat across his desk. And just to be an annoying little shit, because of course, Harry smiles and cocks his head to the side as if to say “what’s the matter, why are you upset?”

That’s when Mr. Grimshaw starts to look less tired and more irritated. “Harry Styles. Why must we keep meeting like this? Why must you keep up your violence streak at my school?”

This is the part where Harry starts to get pissed off. “Oh, but I don’t see Robert sitting in the seat next to me? I’m confused, Mr. Grimshaw, to why the guy who was _bullying_ my _boyfriend_ is getting off scot-free _again_ and why I am stuck listening to the same lecture and receiving the same punishment for the hundredth time in a row while he never gets any consequences at all for his actions.”

The Principle sighs again and looks at Harry, like he is tired of having this same argument over and over again. That makes two of them.

“Because, Harry. Another boy has ended up in the Nurses office, courtesy of you, and I will be getting several angry phone calls later about that. And because there is no proof of this boy’s slander, the only person left to give punishment to, is you.”

Of course. Every single fucking time. Harry was sick of it.

“You know what, Grimshaw?” Harry says- voice low and dangerous, “I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of this same conversation we have every time an asshole lays a hand on my boyfriend in the halls, or says something demeaning to him. I’m tired of being scared to hold my boyfriend’s hand when we walk down the street because we might hear cries of ‘faggot!’ or how we’ll burn in hell. I’m tired of my boyfriend being constantly anxious because of this _shit hole_ of a school that you, for some reason, take pride in. And most of all, ‘ _Mr.’_ Grimshaw, I’m tired of _homophobic assholes_ like _**you.**_ ”

Long story short, Harry ends up walking out but only gets a week of suspension. Harry calls it a win, but Louis calls it stupid. He just hopes that what he said effected their pea-minded principal just a little.

Probably not, though.

And once again, they end up in Harry’s car, but this time they opt out of the cliff view and decide to go back to their old stomping grounds; flying down the pacific coast highway with all the windows down and the music cranked, the bitter salted air burning the tips of their noses and chapping their lips.

Louis puts his hand on Harry’s thigh. Even if he is pissed at Harry for getting himself suspended once again, it doesn’t mean he isn’t appreciative of the way Harry sticks up for him.

Louis actually thinks Harry looks _so fucking hot_ when he’s angry. The way his jaw clenches and he gets defensive over Louis’s Honor, let’s just say it does a little something for him.

And what the hell.

That is sooo unfair. Unfair disadvantage.

He can’t look like that and not think Louis is going to cave.

And judging by that smirk, he fucking knows it.

Stupid curly haired bastard.

He makes Harry pull over.

And when Louis has Harry’s dick in his mouth, he remembers to make his punishment as long and drawn out as possible after he comes.

 

_no love here to be losing, I don’t care who’s in the car cause really we just pch cruising_

 

The real reason Harry and Louis don’t hang out with other people is because they are more comfortable around each other. It’s that simple.

But it was one of those rare days that Harry and Louis decided to let a couple friends tag along on their misadventures.

So they all pile into Harry’s Firebird and set off to look for a place to eat after school. It was a cold, rainy day in Cali and all they really wanted to do was find somewhere warm to stop and something hot to drink.

When they came to a stoplight in town, a shiny new Corvette pulls up next to Harry’s Firebird and Louis could just tell it was one of the spoilt rich brats that went to his school.

And all was fine until the Corvette started revving its engine and inching forward, honking its horn a couple times; an obvious challenge.

Louis looked over to Harry and smiled because he looked murderous. You can’t just come and unofficially challenge the town’s best drag racer right in the middle of townsquare. It was just down-right disrespectful, and Harry had earned his respect in the racing world.  

Guess the spoilt brat doesn’t know the unoffical rules of the road.

Harry grit his teeth, and inched forward as well, an acceptance of the Corvette’s challenge.

Louis smiled again and looked to the other passengers in the back seat, where they sat looking like deer stuck in headlights. It made Louis chuckle. They should at least kinda expect this when deciding to get in the car with Harry.

The light turns green, and Harry takes off, the Firebird’s engine giving a mighty roar and it's wheels squealed on the pavement. (Half of the black burn-out marks on the streets around town are from Harry alone.)

Louis laughs at the sudden force pining him to his seat as the Firebird throws itself forward. He closes his eyes after Harry starts to pull in front of the Corvette and soaks up the feeling of the car gliding underneath him.

The familiar feeling of the car’s vibrations almost lull Louis to sleep when a sudden gasp and slight scream from the backseat has him opening his eyes again.

They were at the part of the road that lead into the cliffside, where the two lanes of the paved city merged into one, and it was painfully obvious that the Corvette was dangerously close to the back left corner of Harry’s car. Louis knew it was impossible for Harry to change lanes, and that if he tried the cars would touch and send them both spinning out of control. Louis could also tell there was no way the spoilt brat was going to slow down enough for Harry to get over. 

They were headed straight for the guardrail that over looked a pretty big drop.

Harry stomps on his brakes and they start to screech, drowning out the sounds of terror coming from the two third party members in the back seat.

Louis looked at the speedometer and saw Harry’s 110 mph quickly drop to about 60, and with some steering and handling that would make even a professional driver jealous, Harry manages to manipulate the wet road to his advantage, using a drift tactic to spin the car to the back edge and only slightly tap the guardrail.

It was seriously so gentle Louis could barely feel it, probably not even causing any cosmetic damage to the car.  

When Harry manages to get them back on the road, he’s cussing up a storm. Louis only manages to throw his head back and laugh in a proper fit of laughter.

A few seconds later, after Harry finishes his little temper tantrum, he looks at Louis out of the corner of his eye and starts grinning, wide and wolfish.  

The two friends in the back seat are looking at them like they are absolutely mental, and that only makes Louis laugh harder, bringing tears to his eyes.

He guesses if he and Harry were normal people they would look exactly like their buddies in the backseat, white faced and horrified at the thought of going over the guardrail and landing on the jagged rocks below.

But that was the difference between them.

Louis wasn’t afraid to die.

He doesn’t stop laughing until they get to the café.

 

_you can come and cry if you come through, you can hug the sky if you want to_

It’s a very rare snowy night in late January on the west coast when Louis has another break down; his first real one since the beginning of school.

If he were to look back now, he guesses he shouldn’t have called Harry and begged him to take them to their special spot. He should have heard the hesitancy in Harry’s voice before he hung up the phone, shouldn’t have made Harry drive him back up that old cliff when it was icy like that.

But Louis didn’t see any of that in that moment, because all he could focus on was breathing breathing breathing, trying not to panic more and possibly throw up in Harry’s Firebird when he came and picked him up.

It’s the black ice that does it. Harry isn’t even driving as fast as normal, and he’s being cautious of all the places he thinks they might slide, but he couldn’t see the fucking black ice, and that road was really much too narrow.

The last thing Louis remembers is sliding, spinning, Harry’s curses, and then free-falling.

falling falling falling

Louis guesses that the town will get in trouble for not remembering to repair the guardrails; after all it’s not nice when young boys die, and the community will want someone to blame.  

And Louis wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t afraid to die. He was just sorry that Harry was in the car with him. He could have grown up and had beautiful children and lived a long life. But part of Louis knows that if he died, Harry wouldn’t have been far behind.

They say that when you’re dying your life flashes by in a second; all the things you’ve ever done passing before your eyes.

That’s not all true, Louis thinks.

It’s like one long, long minute of only your favorite memory, the moment in time that makes your life worth living, no matter how brief it was.

And the memory that showed itself to Louis was one that might have seemed insignificant to most, but for some reason that tiny memory was Louis’s favorite.

Of course it was in _The Summer._ Harry was wearing his Ray Bans and driving his car real fast, like he always did. Louis was sitting shotgun of course, with his eyes closed and leaning back in his seat, hand on Harry’s thigh, like he always did. The sun was setting and the windows were down and they were just cruising down the pacific coast highway, like they always did.

cruising cruising cruising

Louis must have had a thousand more memories very similar to that one, but for some reason this one was special to him.

And even though Louis swore the moment he and Harry first step foot into their secret place had been his best memory, he understands why he was show this particular thing.

Contentment. That’s why it was Louis’s favorite moment, he was sure, because he never felt more content to stay like that in his entire life. He could relive that moment a thousand times and still be content to sit there with his hand on Harry’s thigh and the sea side wind blowing his fringe out of his face.

He wonders if Harry was afraid of dying, even though he seriously doubted it. And Louis also wondered what memory he got to see in his last moment, and if it possibly included him.

He hopes it did.

And when everything starts to fade out, Louis decides he couldn’t be happier with the life he lived, or the person he spent it with.  

**Author's Note:**

> remember to leave me a comment lovelies, i hope you liked it and i hope you have a happy new year! 
> 
> *this story is based off of a song called pch by jaden smith and i strongly suggest you go listen to it*


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